Tag: intersectionality

Author Baburao Bagul, a pioneer of Marathi Dalit literature, in his short story titled Mother, lends a voice to motherhood and widowhood experienced by a lower caste Dalit woman. Baburao throws light upon the dual discrimination faced by Dalit women along the lines of gender and caste, thereby exposing realistic experiences of the Dalit community. Filled wit feelings of pain and loss, the author attempts to provoke readers with questions such as— whose experience of motherhood is universalised? Does motherhood differ along the lines of caste? Can the voice of a subaltern mother be heard? If so, is there any form of emancipation possible for her?

As a response to the complexities of gender, violence, and caste, Bagul’s story is focused around the life of an ‘unusual’ mother (unnamed), and her son Pandu. The father is diagnosed with tuberculosis, and as a result, the pressure on Pandu’s mother to be the sole breadwinner of the family is immense. Things take a turn for the worse, when the father, in his perpetual drunken state, abuses Pandu’s mother verbally, physically, and emotionally as he suspects her of infidelity.

Consequently, attempts are made by him to disfigure the mother, with the motive of making her unattractive. Such a narrative reflects the deeply engrained patriarchal mindset in Pandu’s father, where he feels a strong sense of entitlement over ‘his’ woman’s body. This need to conquer, control, and confine a woman’s body is a way of asserting male privilege on women.

Things take a turn for the worse when Pandu’s teacher recites a poem on motherhood, where a mother is referred to Vatsalya Sindhu (a river of mother love). The poem reflects the traditional notion of motherhood as constructed by society for brahmanical women. That, the ‘goodness’ of a mother is measured by her ability to shower her children with love, sacrifices, and care, all within the domain of the private sphere of the household. Pandu tries to fit in his mother in this idealised image of a motherhood, however his thoughts are interrupted when a few upper caste boys make fun of his mother stating “Don’t touch Pandu, any of you. My mother says Pandu’s mother sleeps with the mukadam (pimp)” (Bagul 1990).

With this we see, how untouchability and impurity remain as markers of Dalit identity, thereby remaining as a scourge on upper caste mentality. Moreover, since Pandu’s mother happens to be a Dalit woman, the degree of mistreatment is two fold. Why is it so difficult for society to accept a mother to be a widow, and still be ‘pure’ in her relations with people?

Moreover, with the demise of Pandu’s father, his mother has no choice but to venture out in the public domain to earn a living. As a result, this does not permit her to stay in the private realm of the household mostly, thereby, not allowing her to nurture her child.

So does that imply that Pandu’s mother is a ‘bad’ mother? No, the cultural representation of women as mothers is so unidimensional, that mothers having different experiences of maternity appear as an anomaly in the paradigm of motherhood altogether.

The author also sheds light on how Dalit children are constantly marginalised and discriminated against even in school by the upper caste, thus leaving no space for them to understand and value their individualistic experiences. Only after upper caste boys label Pandu’s mother as a prostitute, Pandu too begins to scrutinise her whereabouts. Caught in the midst of patriarchy and casteist mindset, Pandu’s mother’s sacrifices to provide her son with a better life are ultimately overshadowed. Trapped in a cycle of eternal oppression, not only from society but also by her own family members, the quest for emancipation for Dalit women becomes difficult to obtain.

On a societal level, Bagul’s story also sheds light upon the exploitation of Dalit widows by upper caste men. In their eyes, Dalit widows are viewed as powerless, poor, and ‘sexually available’ due to their widowhood. Viewing them as objects of sexual desire, upper caste men satisfy their sexual urge by exploiting them. Due to strong political control combined with high status, any form of agitation by the lower castes is perceived as powerless. As a result, a lot of violence and sexual instances go unreported.

Bagul’s story attempts to blur the line between the personal and the political, by giving women from the margins a voice. It is only when perspectives of people who face instances of political inequality and oppression are incorporated in everyday discourse that the reader is brought closer to the subaltern lifestyle.

The phenomenon of asceticism in Hinduism is often regarded as the essential feature of the religious doctrine. Contrary to popular belief asceticism and religion are not synonymous with each other. The ascetic tradition is an embodiment in a person rather than a doctrine. Interestingly, this embodiment is understood as a manifestation solely in males and not in females. The discourse on asceticism in Hinduism allows both sexes to follow the path to attain Moksha or liberation. However, the difference becomes obvious when a female ascetic is given the status of an ‘outsider’ and the male that of an ‘insider’.

The non-conforming, non-familial, non-normative female ascetic thus, remains an invisible being in an overwhelming masculine world of asceticism, where women fight taboos to create a space for the woman as an ascetic.

Since the beginning of the 21st century, there have been debates amongst scholars on the topic of alternative subjectivities regarding which are the notion of revolutionary identities in mainstream discourse. Female asceticism is one such ‘rebel’ identity. However, the question which may arise in many ascetics as well as non-ascetics is — ‘Can a woman be a legitimate ascetic?‘ Yes, she can, but in terms of orthodox religious doctrine, she can become an ascetic only if her renunciation of the domestic realm is accomplished.

In simpler words, Hinduism has always been focused around the upper castes, the Brahmins, and to some extent on the Kshatriyas and Vaishyas. The contradictory nature of Hinduism reveals its misogynous inclinations by limiting renunciation to the Dwij or the twice born man. It is important to note, that the twice born man has the freedom of choice between two modes of life — the householder, and the renouncer. But, for women, only a single mode of life has been prescribed — marital life.

Such a mechanism of exclusion in Brahmanic orthodoxy operates on the principle of menstruation — perceived as ‘impure’ and ‘sickly’ by Vedic literature. As a result, women are believed to be innately lacking the ‘natural’ tendency towards achieving Dharma(religious duty), and so they must follow a series of rituals and ceremonies in order to gravitate towards a ‘state of purity’. Such notions of purity and pollution form the foundations of gender relations in the ascetic tradition, thereby making the female ascetic invisible in society.

THIS MECHANISM OF EXCLUSION IN BRAHMANIC ORTHODOXY OPERATES ON THE PRINCIPLE OF MENSTRUATION — PERCEIVED AS ‘IMPURE’ AND ‘SICKLY’.

With so much patriarchal discrimination in the ascetic tradition, I wonder, why do women become ascetics in the first place? Or what kind of women may become ascetics? Sociology and Anthropology suggests that women adopt an ascetic lifestyle upon becoming widows, in order to escape the social stigma attached to widowhood imposed by sectarian chauvinism. Others believe asceticism is a path adopted by these women to escape the inevitable condition of beggary after the death of their immediate family members, most importantly, their husbands.

There are some young renouncers who are submitted the responsibility of the care of a group of pious women since their families cannot afford dowries. In such situations, young girls meet their gurus in ashrams, who then initiate unmarried young girls into their sect and take them under her/his service.

For a woman to become an ascetic, is to question the ascribed cultural norms laid out for them. Attempting to step outside this normative structure gives the female ascetic the status of an ‘outsider’. This is because she has not only chosen to adopt a certain way of life, a life which is primarily prescribed for males, but has also chosen to be critical of, and to question the existing social order. This ‘deviance’ in ascribed gender norms (as Brahmanical orthodoxy would call it), is perceived as a threat to the existing power structure which gives privilege to male ascetics. As a result, there is no surprise that male ascetics would protest against women being ascetics at all.

When it comes to asceticism, the initiation ceremonies mark the separation of a woman from her householder duties. These initiation rituals release women from their previous social identity, which at times can involve shedding of various identity markers that help people to identify one’s social role and status. Feminist artist and activist Sheba Chhachhi in her work ‘Ganga’s Daughters’ (1990) traces the transformation of ordinary women into ascetics as they part with their clothes, hair, name, caste, and familial relations. In search of Moksha, these women embrace their new ascetic identity. An identity, in which they are no longer anybody’s parents, sisters, or wives.

IN SEARCH OF MOKSHA, THESE WOMEN EMBRACE THEIR NEW ASCETIC IDENTITY – IN WHICH THEY ARE NO LONGER ANYBODY’S PARENTS, SISTERS, OR WIVES.

That being said, the life of a woman ascetic in Hinduism is under appreciated, and holds a complicated position. As they step out of the orthodox Brahmanical system of surveillance into newly formed identities as ascetics, women are perceived as beings who have conquered their right to be granted individual freedom. It’s almost as if women have been reincarnated into different beings after performing the last sacrifice of their prior identities.

As a result of these women’s sense of self, their new found identity can be understood as a way of creating a new space within the folds of the Hindu religious doctrine. It is truly extraordinary to see how these women courageously defy traditional gender norms, and carry a will force to raise themselves to the level of their male ascetic counterparts.

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Stuti Kakar is currently pursuing her M.Phil along with a diploma in art history and curatorial studies from the Bhau Daji Lad Museum (Mumbai). She blogs at the intersection of sociology and art, having previously written for Open Democracy and The Caravan Magazine.